


Sunken Love

by CatofApocalypse, VeryWrongEverything



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley calling himself Crawley, Crowley's Fall, Heaven, M/M, Memory Loss, Pre-Fall (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatofApocalypse/pseuds/CatofApocalypse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryWrongEverything/pseuds/VeryWrongEverything
Summary: **Vivi's art is now inchapter 3.**This fic is a collaboration with the talentedCatsoftheApocalypseas part of the Reverse Big Bang of the Do It with Style Event Server.Thank you to all the mods for organising the event and to my very kind BetaHestiaDragonflyfor all the suggestions.There are some depictions of the War in Heaven, but nothing too graphic.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 24
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Vivi's art is now in [ chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258040/chapters/71929014).**
> 
> This fic is a collaboration with the talented [CatsoftheApocalypse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsoftheApocalypse/pseuds/CatsoftheApocalypse) as part of the Reverse Big Bang of the Do It with Style Event Server. 
> 
> Thank you to all the mods for organising the event and to my very kind Beta [HestiaDragonfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HestiaDragonfly) for all the suggestions.
> 
> There are some depictions of the War in Heaven, but nothing too graphic.

Inside the first garden on Earth, an angel watched over the first two humans while a demon watched over the angel. There were other angels and demons in the garden, but they weren’t that concerned with events inside the Garden. All they had in mind was the Great Plan, the next War and thus determinedly stared into the plane where they believed threats would be coming from had there been threats coming. However, there wasn’t any danger approaching. They decided to keep an eye on the eventless sand-coloured void nonetheless. 

The name of one particular angel, the one guarding the Eastern Gate, the only one who was admiring the blooming flowers and greens inside the Wall, the only one who talked to the creatures and praised their feathers and fur, was Aziraphale. He had the rosiest cheeks, which flushed beautifully when he tried to keep up to an excited bunny or when he stubbornly tried to pluck a particularly ripe fruit from a higher branch instead of settling for another one which was within arm’s reach. Aziraphale had the most adorable huff when he couldn’t win an argument. Not that any of the newly created creatures could win an angel in arguments, of course. Crowley just knew that by heart. He could never forget it. He had teased that very fussy, very stubborn angel to no end just to hear that huff and kiss it away. 

Crowley was now draped on the most luscious tree in Eden, where the shades of the leaves could conceal him completely from the angel’s sight. He had gotten used to his new form quite well, even though he had decided to never grow comfortable in this condemned life. It had seemed like a recent loss, the vivid memory of his smiling mate still seared scathing wounds onto his heart. It was the kind of pain that never ended and Crowley wished it never would. He relished the aching emptiness that clenched at his heart whenever he saw Aziraphale. That kind of suffering kept him grounded. It was the kind of suffering that had a purpose, rather than the kind of pointless cruelty he’d seen in Hell. He would never be worthy of a glance from the angel ever again, but he would always love him from afar with his blackened heart. 

He watched Aziraphale from a distance on the day everything changed like he always had since they were both stationed on Earth. The demon hadn’t minded where the Earth was, nor what his assignment was when he took on the job. He hadn’t even asked before he took on the job. He’d give anything to leave Hell. But then there was his angel when he arrived and everything after that was too good to be true. A tuft of blonde curls in the middle of all the luxuriously green leaves, pale skin and innocent expression, like he had always been, like Crowley had always remembered. 

Nothing had tainted the angel in Crowley’s memory. Lest there be tar and sulfur and charred feathers and spilled blood around him, the fallen angel had kept his love in a crystal box and stored it safely in the deepest corner of his heart. Sure, he’d failed to resist the urge to revisit the memories of their time. He had wanted to run his tainted fingers across milky white skin. But, he didn’t and that’s what mattered. He would never let Aziraphale go through what he went through. So he kept his distance. He held his voice. And he watched the one being that he wanted to spend every split second of his time looking at with his cursed serpentine eyes. 

He watched Aziraphale sit by the water, staring thoughtfully at his sword, currently covered in holy fire. The sword he had remembered so well. He had held and polished it while Aziraphale lazily ran his finger through Crowley’s hair. Crowley knew better to approach, so he stayed still, allowing himself several tastes of the air just to tame the wild yearning inside him that constantly shouted “Aziraphale” into nothingness that was now his soul. 

When Crowley looked at the angel, at anything really, but especially the angel, he missed the life before this badly. He missed seeing the pink hue of Aziraphale’s cheeks and the brilliant blue of his eyes and knowing that they were there because of him. Crowley was afraid of eventually forgetting the way those eyes shone and twinkled. He was afraid that those eyes would one day carry the reflection of a being that was not him. But then he knew that had already happened. A demon like Crowley was a creature of darkness. He lived in the shadows and remained unseen. Meanwhile, Aziraphale gazed at every creature in the Garden with utter adoration like he did when they had held each other’s gaze. He smiled at Her creatures that thrived under angelic grace like a beaming sun. 

Crowley watched a canary land on the round shoulder of the angel, dancing with its tiny claws towards Aziraphale’s cheeks. A few pecks won it the attention of the angel, which Crowley tried not to be jealous of but couldn’t help baring his fangs at it. Aziraphale giggled at the sting at first but his face straightened after exchanging a few chirps with the bird and followed it deeper into the woods hurriedly. 

Crowley knew he should have hurried towards wherever the guardian angel was heading. He was supposed to be there to cause troubles and keep an eye on the guardian angels. But, he couldn’t give up the chance to relish whatever crumbs Aziraphale had left on his way. The serpent demon slithered towards the spot the angel had previously occupied. The ground still carried the residual warmth which he missed desperately. The air tasted faintly like his dreams. 

He curled there, in his bestial form, and soaked up every ounce of the angelic essence, ignoring the slight tinge on his belly. 

From the calm water, Crowley could see what he was. His sickly yellow eyes and blood-red underbelly screamed everything that he was now. A beast. A cursed creature that could never be worthy of an angel’s presence, the one that he loved so deeply. The angel he’d given everything to keep safe. It was the last good and right thing he had done, the demon reminded himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. 
> 
> The War in Heaven happens in this chapter, so it can be a little violent. Nothing too graphic, though. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this fic and I hope you like this second chapter!

Crowley had never forgotten the day everything changed. The morning when the air tasted of gunpowder and stink of spilt blood. He had woken before his lover, who was snoring softly beside him and huffing warm breath on Crowley’s bare skin. One of the thick arms clung tight to Crowley’s lean waist while another shoved under his head to prop it onto Crowley’s shoulder. 

Crowley forced himself up, careful not to wake his partner. The instinct of a healer urged him to rush out to wherever the stench was coming from but he pushed it aside. He knew something was happening, something bigger than Aziraphale and him. And he had more important things to do than storming to the field without putting insurance in place. He had to protect Aziraphale.  _ What kind of a healer would he be if he couldn’t even protect his mate?  _

In a corner of their room, laid a silver set of armour and a sword. The armour was well-polished and shining even in the dimmed light. Crowley had hated how the harsh and chilling metal hid Aziraphale’s softness. The archangels had always wanted Aziraphale to toughen up, but Crowley liked to think his lover deserved all the tenderness in the world and that he’d be the one to provide him with it. He had hidden words of love and devotion in intricate flowery letters on the edges of each piece, embracing Aziraphale with his adoration. 

The armour was heavy and left prints on Aziraphale’s pale skin when Crowley took off the armour for him by the end of the day. Crowley had run his fingers across the dents and chipping on the metal, trying hard not to think about what he might do had they been wounds like he’d healed on the battlefield. He had kissed away the red prints on Aziraphale’s skin and every inch of the soft flesh that was too good for the world. 

Crowley walked towards it and cast a blessing on it, pleading it to be easier on its owner. The healer went to the sword next. He had loved the sword dearly. It was part of Aziraphale’s essence, an extension of him in some ways. He had seen many weapons. None of them was even close to the one in front of him now. The blades of Aziraphale’s sword had an impossibly gentle golden sheen, instead of the cold blinding silver most angelic weapons had. The guard resembled Aziraphale’s broad wings, delicate feathers stretching out. 

Holding the grip of his mate’s sword, Crowley whispered. As a healer, he was capable of casting spells of protection at it, to shield him and his patients from the ongoing violence on the battlefield. His ability was not meant to be used like this. It was meant for the greater good instead of his selfish need to keep his lover safe. 

He watched serpents appear from the spot he held and wrapped around the entire grip, touching the lower edge of the wing-shaped guard. When he released the handle, he watched the tiny serpents twirled around the metal once more and settled as part of the piece. 

“Love?” Aziraphale called out, voice still rough from sleep. He had covered himself in a simple robe, bare feet padding almost silently on the marble floor. “Why are you up already?”

“Nothing, dove. Let’s rest for a while longer. You’ve got a long day ahead of you,” Crowley smiled at the sight of his sleepy partner indulgently and allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace. Aziraphale whined a half-hearted protest and buried his nose into Crowley waves. Through the thin fabric, his sleep-warm skin comforted Crowley’s nerves. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Aziraphale mumbled coyly into Crowley’s back and the healer chuckled. He loved when his mate was shy and the time that followed. Turning around in the embrace of Aziraphale, Crowley hugged back and kissed the fluffy curls lovingly. “Yeah? What’ve you been thinking?” 

“Would you want to take in a fledgling?” Aziraphale rushed out in his tiny voice, which appeared when he wasn’t sure of himself, which Crowley found both utterly adorable and heartbreaking. “I mean, they’re creating new angels, aren’t they? Well, isn’t She? And I thought it would be a good idea. If you would like to.”

“Of course, dove,” Crowley exclaimed, stopping Aziraphale mid-sentence. He squeezed Aziraphale tight. The healer had wanted more small angels, preferably more smaller Aziraphale. Crowley had imagined the newer angels they took in might be a mixture of Aziraphale and him, a hint of mischief and very, very fussy. He wouldn’t mind another set of chubby cheeks to rub and kiss. 

“You would want that?” Aziraphale squirmed a little as Crowley lost himself in his daydream. 

“Yes, a hundred times yes!” Crowley yelled and kissed the delicately upturned nose that was just in front of his lips and he found no reason not to kiss. “That would be wonderful! My love. I can’t wait to raise a fledgling with you and I know you’d be the perfect father for them.”

Aziraphale smiled shyly at Crowley’s excitement and guided him back to bed. He could never have enough of this, Crowley decided as he laid back into the ocean of softness that was his bed and his mate. 

None of their plans came true, however. Things went downhill very soon. Not long after Aziraphale and Crowley settled down in each other’s arms after imagining a perfect future for them, the Bell rang. Lucifer had waged war against Heaven. Rebellious angels raised their weapons against their brothers and sisters and golden blood coated the pristine ground of Heaven. 

They knew the moment was coming. It’d be ridiculous if they didn’t. All their training had been preparing them for the moment. This exact moment which neither of them wanted to face. But the time had come and Aziraphale and Crowley had to leave for their posts.

Crowley remembered watching Aziraphale leave. He refused to put on one of his gauntlets until the very last minute. Aziraphale had run his plush fingers over Crowley’s face, memorising every dip and peak of his angular figure. They were a warrior’s fingers, covered in calluses and cuts. The roughness and soft give of flesh were uniquely Aziraphale, leaving a soothing scratch on Crowley’s herb stained skin. 

Seeing his lover disappear into an army of angels had torn Crowley’s heart right out of his chest and stuffed it with fear instead. Neither of them knew what would happen from here on. No one did. This would be a war like no other and they were merely nameless players in the event. 

Between swords and shields, Crowley and his fellow healer angels walked. They tried to save as much as they could, but there were too much blood and corpses. The angelic corporations that once shone like stars in the night sky now dimmed and soiled with blood. He watched rebellion angels fight their previous fellows. He saw the unbelieving gape of the wounded angels as they fell.

The healers exhausted their power to save the wounded, but there were too many wounded angels and too little healers. Crowley’s stomach dropped as more brightness faded into nothing and the lifeless corporation sank into the ground. As more angels died, their lights disappeared and the darkness grew. The heaven of light and goodness turned into something unimaginable. 

Crowley had to find Aziraphale. Fear of losing Aziraphale brittled under his skin. He had promised that he’d find him anywhere. He had promised that he would see Aziraphale’s light in a pitch-black night as well as in the brightest sky. 

On the battlefield, Aziraphale felt horrible. He saw his brothers and sister collapsing under each other’s sword. He could very well be the next falling and he knew he had to do something to survive, he had to go back to Crowley. Harming others to protect himself was the only way. But, how could he?  _ Since when was harming others angelic duty? _

He saw Gabriel with the trumpet in the air, brilliantly dark hair and mesmerising violet eyes. The archangel called onto other angels to march on and banish Lucifer and his crowd from Heaven. He yelled and others answered. They almost seemed excited that the War had finally come. They seemed blood-thirsty and so sure of their purpose. 

Aziraphale couldn’t watch. He wanted to return to the peaceful life that Crowley and he had built. He wanted to be accepted for all the love and kindness he had so adored. But he couldn’t. His mate had left for the battlefield just like he did this morning. Crowley was doing his duty, and so should he.

Aziraphale swallowed the lump in his throat. On the far end of the field, where thousands of angels put each other down, he saw Michael fighting off angels valiantly with the shining sword. He had seen Michael countless times in the air, ready to strike. They had always been the champion. So comfortable in their own skin and wouldn’t mind piercing others’. But this time, it was different. Their dark hair no longer floated in the air as the wind blew, no longer shone a rich brown hue under the light. There was no light, and Michaels’ curls were clotted with the blood they’d drawn. 

Aziraphale wondered if he had what it took to kill. If he was even a competent angel. He wondered what if the angels falling were him. What he would lose. Who he would lose. And, he saw Crowley. His partner worked amidst wounded angels, shielding his patients with broad wings. Blood and dirt smudged on Crowley’s pale face which he had held lovingly in this morning. 

Aziraphale thought about where he would go had he been struck down. Where those fellow angels had gone. He thought about if this would ever stop and what would it even look like when everything stopped? Where will the blood and corpses be after this? Will the angels be missed? He could feel the melancholy and anxiety seeping into his bone. He wanted Crowley more than anything. 

Of course, Crowley saw him. Across the vast battleground, Crowley could sense the despair and fear Aziraphale was feeling. Among the scent of violence and cruelty, he knew Aziraphale was wounded. He could see the cuts on his cheeks and hands and the chipped edges of his sword. He could smell the sharp pang of blood which had stained Aziraphale’s armour. Crowley knew the protection he put would soon break. Nonetheless, he stared in horror when Aziraphale finally lost his footing and plunged downwards. 

The angels that fell never stood up again, Crowley had realised soon after he entered the crowd. Healers stopped chasing after collapsed angels after they realised that those that had fallen, remained fallen. Their corporations vanished into nothingness and dimmed. This falling was an irreversible one and all other angels could do was to silently bid farewell to their siblings. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I'm posting the scene where the entire fic was centred on! 
> 
> I'm sad for the babies but happy with how it came out. 
> 
> Please enjoy :)

Crowley knew he had to get to Aziraphale as quickly as possible. He had to wrestle the warrior back before the angel he adored with all of his heart vanished from heaven. He raced over and plunged into the direction Aziraphale sunken and found himself in the middle of murky water. 

Way too late did Crowley realise what he dived into was most definitely not water. The dark and liquid substance had something off about it. It was so dark, barely anything could be seen, and it was heavy, suffocating whatever was in it. Just like God’s will was not to be overturned, no one was meant to survive the Fall. Crowley couldn’t care less about what being swallowed into the dark water meant to him, but he knew he had to stay conscious for Aziraphale. He needed to have just enough energy to get to Aziraphale. Whatever happened then, they will face together. 

Crowley screamed when his corporation collided with the water surface. He could feel the impact deep into his bones. Every bit of himself felt fractured and bruised and the trip into the water made it worse. Heavy pressure on his flesh made everything hurt. He would have lost consciousness had he not been determined to reach Aziraphale at all cost. 

In the endless darkness, Crowley could barely see. There was a glow which gave out weak warmth. The healer recognised that warmth on his skin, against his lips, around his body. It was the essence of Aziraphale, which was now dimming at alarming speed. Crowley didn’t have much time. 

Squirming in utter misery, Crowley touched the Aziraphale’s glowing body and his chest tightened even further. The round, porcelain cheeks of his lover were covered in cuts and speckles of dried blood stuck in his silvery curls. Holding his unconscious partner in his arm, the healer whispered soothing words into his ears. He discovered in surprise that he did not feel too much discomfort aside from the injury from his dive, partially thanks to the fact that angels did not need to breathe.

There were nagging feelings in the back of his mind, poking through the fog of relief he felt holding Aziraphale. He didn’t know where they were going from here and he had to be the one to make the call given that Aziraphale couldn’t exactly do anything at the moment. Crowley shouldn’t question Aziraphale’s demise. No angels were entitled to question God’s decisions. 

But, how could he not? Aziraphale was the purest angel in Heaven. Crowley had never seen a being so loving and kind since he was created. He had seen Aziraphale go through training as a warrior, convinced that what he was doing was to protect everything he loved. Crowley had patched his partner up each night, convincing himself that all Aziraphale went through was for a cause. 

What was the cause? He couldn’t help but ask. How was the most beautiful being paying the price of the egotistic Lucifer? How was Crowley himself surviving while Aziraphale laid limply in his arms? There were so many questions in the healer’s mind while he was helpless in the murky water. 

There were too many questions and none of them should be asked. 

Crowley asked them anyways.

Crowley howled into the deadly silence of the water of fallen angels. He cried out every ounce of doubt he had ever harboured against the purpose and destiny of angels like him. He wept his deepest pain into the space around him until the water tasted like his own tears. Crowley had wanted so much. Skies, adventures, being the best healer, softer quilts, freedom, he thought back on all the things he had yearned for and landed on the only thing he wanted now. 

There was only one thing, one being, rather, Crowley wanted now. Possibly forever. Aziraphale, the angel so perfect, Crowley’s heart ached just thinking about him. 

He prayed. The healer prayed to the God he just questioned for an opportunity. He prayed to the Mother who had just cast his siblings to an unknown destination for a thread of hope to save Aziraphale. The words didn’t come easy. Neither did the decision he made. It was something he couldn’t take back. He might regret this, yes. He would most definitely regret this, but no, he could never take this back. 

Inhaled and exhaled deeply, Crowley had come to a decision and the plea he wanted to make. He wanted Aziraphale safe and happy. That was all he asked. So he zeroed in on these thoughts, repeating each syllable of his beg feverishly. The response came slowly but surely. Gradually, Crowley felt the limbs in his embrace squirmed and he heard the tiniest groan from Aziraphale’s lips. 

The deal was made, he suddenly realised. And the price must be paid. That’s how deals worked and of course Crowley knew that. What he had no idea about was the price he was going to pay for this plea. 

As Crowley felt his partner come back to life, every breath Aziraphale drew felt as if it was pulled out of Crowley’s lungs and every time he saw those brilliantly blue eyes blinked he felt his eyelids grew heavier. It was an exchange, Crowley came to his conclusion. It was a sad conclusion, indicating that Aziraphale would survive and lead a safe and happy life without Crowley. 

With each shred of energy pulled out of him, Crowley grew weaker. He had trouble keeping his eyes open and staying conscious by the time Aziraphale gasped and held Crowley tight in return, hurting every inch of his bruised skin and making him squeal indignantly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Love,” Aziraphale loosened his grasp immediately. He looked confusedly around the dark water where no light penetrated through. All they could see was each other. “Are you alright?”

“You are,” Crowley sighed dreamily at the now slightly blushing cheeks, his words almost whisper. Seeing Aziraphale breathing was better than he imagined. “You’re alright, dove.”

“I am,” Aziraphale replied with a little hesitation. To be honest, he didn’t remember much about the events before he fell unconscious and the surrounding provided little clue for him to figure out. 

“That’s alright. You’re okay and that’s all that matters,” Crowley shook his head feebly, focusing all his energy on memorising the strength that was propping himup and the patterns of Aziraphale’s breaths. “Now listen to me carefully. I need you to get up there, as quickly as possible. Do not hesitate for anything.”

“What about you, love,” Aziraphale asked timidly. Crowley sounded weaker than ever and that made him worried. After the brutal war he had just gone through, he did not want to be apart from Crowley for one second. Not ever again. He could sense something was wrong. His brave lover was holding something back and bearing it on his own shoulders. 

“I’ll be fine,” Crowley chuckled mirthlessly and laid a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead before continuing. “I need you to trust me on this, dove. Can you do that for me?”

He pulled back slightly to look Aziraphale in those gem-like eyes. How he wished he could have kept this moment forever. The love and trust in Aziraphale’s eyes were phenomenal. Aziraphale nodded carefully. His gaze traced Crowley’s every expression. Carefully examining the meaning of every twitch of his muscle. 

“Good,” Crowley praised. His chest thrummed with pain more severely as he spoke. There wasn’t much time left. “I know you can do it, Aziraphale. I need you to go back up there and be happy and safe and kind and everything that you have always been. Can you do that for me?” 

“Crowley,” he saw Aziraphale’s bottom lip wobbled. He didn’t want Aziraphale to be sad. The last thing he wanted was for Aziraphale to be sad. He wanted Aziraphale to always smile. Being as bright and lovely as Aziraphale was, he had the right to be the centre of everyone’s happiness. And he did not deserve an ounce of sadness. He had to do this, Crowley gritted his teeth figuratively, he didn’t have the energy to do so at the moment. “Crowley, my love, I don’t want to be apart from you for one second. I don’t want you to be hurt or sacrifice yourself for me. I want you to be safe more than anything. All the things you want for me, I want them for you. Crowley, please, don’t do this to me.”

Crowley wanted to scream again. He wanted to know how everything was unfair and they had to be separated for others’ greed and arrogance. He wanted to convince Aziraphale that everything would turn out alright but he didn’t know that and Aziraphale was so smart, he would see Crowley through before he finished the lie. 

“I’m sorry, dove,” Crowley tried to keep his voice steady, but it was a futile cause. Aziraphale knew. He always knew. “There were so many places I haven’t shown you, and there’s so many promises I made to you. I wanted to build a family with you. I wanted to do so many things for you. I love you and I always will.”

Aziraphale was now sobbing audibly around him. He held Crowley tightly against his chest and muffled his cries in Crowley’s hair. “I love you too,” he whispered again and again into Crowley’s skin. That was it, they both knew that. The time was running out and Crowley corporation was getting heavier. 

“Come on, I’ll be alright,” Crowley attempted to lift the spirit. “Stay strong, dove. I know you can. You’re the strongest angel I know.” It was true and it had to be because otherwise Crowley wouldn’t know how to leave. He clung to Aziraphale's neck and kissed him deeply. 

Everything tasted like the salty sadness they both felt. Both knowing it was the last kiss they shared, neither of them wanted it to end. Aziraphale cradled the base of Crowley’s skull and was determined to keep it there as long as possible. Through the hard surface of his gauntlet pressing into Crowley’s nape, there was the strength of a fighter. The hold was firm and careful with restraint. Just tight enough to leave eternal print on Crowley’s soul and not to soothe his yearning heart. 

With his clever tongue, Crowley licked into Aziraphale’s mouth and tried to feel every inch of the velvety skin. Memory of his warrior lover would be all he had to survive the unknown fate after this. 

Then it ended, just like everything would. They were pulled towards different directions. Crowley felt himself sink. Despite the darkness around them, he felt the colours change and hard scales crawl onto his skin. Aziraphale slipped away from his hold and began floating upwards. His limbs fumbled frantically as soon as he realised he couldn’t keep hold of Crowley anymore and he screamed in utmost distress. His tears sank downward onto Crowley’s transforming skin and burnt the small patches of uncovered flesh. Crowley prayed for the scars to stay for him to keep something to remember Aziraphale by. 

Deeper and deeper Crowley sank. He saw Aziraphale floated higher and finally faded from his sight. The journey to the bottom of the water felt like an endless fall. Darkness swallowed the healer whole until he could no longer keep track of his surroundings and time. An unknown force pulled him downwards until there he couldn’t fall any deeper. 

After who knew how long of falling, Crowley was in unspeakable pain. Boiling water scalded his skin while lava licked onto his skin. Everything around him was burning red and black and all he could smell was the aggressive scent of sulfur. There was screaming. Angels like him being burnt into flames falling from the sky. 

It was something Crowley could never remember. Falling from the sky while being burnt by fire and lava. Every inch of his skin hurt but he couldn’t care less about the feeling because the landing was what he dreaded the most. His corporation still hurt horribly from the impact on the water. He wouldn’t imagine how he would be landing like this. He would never survive. 

In the center of each bloom of flames, he saw his siblings squirming helplessly and screaming in utmost distress. From the corner of his eyes, Crowley saw blackened figures laying on the ground, barely moving. He wanted this to end desperately. Even knowing that what he was going through was the price to save Aziraphale, Crowley doubted he could go through this.

The sensation of being burnt faded as his mind drifted away from the reality. He felt everything darkened and finally quiet down. And he welcomed the pause to everything. 

When he woke, Crowley didn’t know how long he was unconscious. He decided it mustn’t have been too long because there were still fireballs made of angels falling from the sky. He watched more angels burn and fall like him. He thanked Her for saving Aziraphale. 

For a very long time, Crowley wandered. 

On the land of the condemned, it’s best if one kept moving out of others’ ways. Crowley had no interests in interacting with the rebellious angels. He could not help cursing them in his mind for his separation from Aziraphale. In the restless nights he spent alone, Crowley dreamt of Aziraphale, the perfect angel that was everything he had ever wanted and would ever want. In the darkest hours, he allowed himself to relive the memory of holding his angel and wiped away the scalding tears before the first ray of light shone on him. 

There was no destination. No where to return to. Crowley walked the charred ground of Hell for days in a row without rest nor food. There wasn’t meaning in anything as far as he was concerned. Vanishing into nothingness was the best outcome he could hope for. He couldn’t have Aziraphale back and he wanted nothing else. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has come to an end! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who had read it.
> 
> It's been so much fun <3

There were different shades of white. There was the kind of white that was so pure that made you think about what was missing. The kind that forced you to question what was underneath the still surface. White was all that Aziraphale saw when he woke. Everything surrounding him was the colour of purity. Nothingness. Lacking. 

The feeling that he was missing something clawed inside his chest and made his skin itch. The healers said it was his corporation fixing itself. They said it was normal. They instructed him not to worry and look away. Aziraphale couldn’t. The feeling of missing something stuck with him since he woke. He felt empty and lost among the grand halls of Heaven. 

His fingers twitched helplessly as if attempting to hold onto something. His nape tensed for someone’s touches whenever he straightened his own collar. His skin shivered in the cool air of the nights that he spent alone in an awfully large bed. His heart ached when he saw fledglings with strawberry blonde hair. He knew he lost something. Something that should have been so integrated into his life that missing it pained him.

Day after day, the principality that had fought vigilantly in the Great War spent his time under the sky that was ever so white. Aziraphale savoured the quietness. He watched the blank spot with intense concentration, trying to see the moving shadow that occupied the vacancy beside him and make out the strange voice that spoke to him in his head. 

Aziraphale barely remembered anything from the war and no angel was willing to speak of the battle. All he had left was a set of chipped armour and a sword. Silent tears dropped from his cheeks as he ran his fingers across the worn-out engrave on the armour. There were unidentifiable swirls and ripple-like patterns on the metal surface. He followed the patterns and relished in the hidden warmth in the lines. He couldn’t help but feel the consuming sorrow whenever he touched the dented surface of the armours. 

He couldn’t get as good a look of the sword because of the holy flames around the blade. Sometimes, Aziraphale stared at the sword for hours on end, wondering what was underneath the licks of fire. The flames were barely a film around the metal, burning dark auburn, shielding whatever clue was left on the weapon from Aziraphale’s eyes.

The handle felt sturdy in his hold. Silvery vine-like stripes covered the handle and cross-guard. The ornate fitted nicely between his fingers, almost as if it was holding him back in a way as well. Aziraphale could feel the sword reacting to him. The flames danced more cheerfully when he felt at peace with himself and burnt a vicious red when he was depressed. 

Other angels weren’t satisfied with his melancholy, especially those overgone the Great War. In their eyes, Aziraphale’s distress dampened the marble floor of Heaven and tainted the glorious victory of the angels. The principality was soon stationed to Earth, the new project of God, where no self-respecting angel was willing to set foot onto. Rumours had it that the land was covered by too many sand and that was shadowed in excessive greens. It was practically inhabitable to angel standards. 

Aziraphale gladly took the opportunity. A break from this sterile world could do him some good, he thought to himself. It turned out, he was right. Every sensation made Aziraphale feel alive. The brilliant blue sky and lavish green forest breathed life into his chest. Words once again danced on the tip of his tongue. The wind made his skin itch with excitement. 

The stimuli of colours and sensation brought him dreams of auburn waves brushing over his chest and gracefully toned arms circling his waist. It was the kind of dreams angels most definitely should not have. Aziraphale decided to place the blame of the demon in Eden. 

He would never admit it, but the presence of the serpent demon made him ached with yearning. He had seen the scaled length for the first time in a spectacularly sunny afternoon. The rays shone through gaps between leaves and onto the black scales, giving out reflections like stars in the night sky. Aziraphale had watched, mesmerised, at the deep end of the forest for hours that day and spent the next few days trying to get the beautiful flickering of light out of his mind. 

The rest of his time, when he wasn’t captivated by the graceful serpent, Aziraphale spent staring at his flaming sword. It was the only belonging he brought with him after coming to earth. He felt the weight of the sword in his hand and reminded himself that he was an angel of God, over and over again. 

And now everything was ending. The humans were being expelled out of Eden and he would now have to wander the ground plane. After seeing Adam and Eve left, Aziraphale stood on the edge of the eastern wall that he’d been watching over Eden. As he looked at the cloud gathering on the edge of the sky. 

  
  


“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” Crowley said. Well, more of a loud hiss than actual words. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Aziraphale snapped his head toward where the voice came from. 

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon,” the now humanoid formed creature spoke and Aziraphale felt an unspeakable stir inside his chest to that voice. It was an unknown kind of sadness. 

“Yes, yes, it did rather,” he hurried to answer.

“Bit of an overreaction if you ask me, first offence and everything. I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway,” the demon beside him mused. His voice low and close to Aziraphale’s ear, making him shiver.

“Well, it must be bad,” he responded, standing his ground firmly as an angel. 

“Crawley,” the demon supplied his name helpfully. Aziraphale thought he saw heat rising to the high cheekbones for a moment, but he decided it was probably wiser to ignore the observation. 

“Crawley,” he repeated the name instead, feeling the ticklish feeling of the name rolling off his tongue. It was a familiar name. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have tempted them into doing it.”

“They just said get up there and cause some trouble,” the demon shrugged and Aziraphale tried hard not to look away from the mental image of tone muscles rolling on an elegantly arched back. 

“Well, overbiously, you’re a demon,” he huffed, reminding himself of his duty as an angel of the Almighty. “It’s what you do.”

“Not very subtle of the Almighty though. Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a don’t touch sign?” Crawley’s seductively low voice chuckled. “I mean, why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the moon? Makes you wonder what God’s really planning.”

“Best not to speculate. It’s all part of the Great Plan. It’s not for us to understand,” Aziraphale responded, primly. His torso shifted out of the uneasiness of the idea of forming theories of God’s thinking. He then settled on an answer, which made him incredibly pleased with himself. “It’s ineffable.”

“The Great Plan’s ineffable?” Crawley scoffed incredulously. Aziraphale noticed there was a small smile on his lips.  _ The lips _ , Aziraphale realised he had made a terrible mistake looking at them. 

“Exactly,” the angel hurried to say. “It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words.”

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” The demon didn’t seem particularly interested in the plan, however. He looked up and down at Aziraphale’s side and asked in an unnaturally squeaky voice. “Uh you did, it was flaming like anything. What happened to it?”

Aziraphale grumbled something unintelligently in response, which he was sure the demon wouldn’t be able to decipher. 

“Lost it already, have you?” The demon Crawley chuckled. He was clearly amused by Aziraphale being flustered by his question. The smug, self-satisfied smirk crawling onto his face. Aziraphale could see the hellish qualities simmering underneath the friendly mask. 

“Gave it away,” Aziraphale mumbled reluctantly.

“You what?” Crawley widened his round, yellow eyes, which made the angel feel very much exposed. They were so expressive. Surprise, hope, vulnerability, and something more tender mixed in the pool of molten gold. 

“I gave it away,” Aziraphale continued his protest half-heartedly. He found it very difficult to tell lies in front of the wide, round, yellow eyes. “There are vicious animals. It’s going to be cold out there and she’s expecting already. And I said, ‘Here you go. Flaming sword. Don’t thank me. And don’t let the sun go down on you here.’ I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

“Oh you’re an angel,” the demon smiled indulgently to his worries and the bubbling warmth in his chest took Aziraphale by surprise. “I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”

“Oh. Thank you. Thank you. It’s been bothering me.”

“I’ve been worrying too. What if I did the right thing with the whole eat the apple business? A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing,” the demon began his musing again. “It’d be funny if we both got it wrong wouldn’t it? If I didn the good thing and you did the bad one.” 

“No. It wouldn’t be funny at all,” Aziraphale squealed. That would most likely get him into a lot of trouble and back to the suffocating place he had come to love. 

“Well,” Crawley shrugged when the drops of rain began to drop.

Crowley wanted to choke himself.  _ Crawley? _ What kind of pseudonym was that? He couldn’t reveal who he really was, regardless of whether Aziraphale remembered him or not. He couldn’t risk it, not when they’ve already been through so much. He had to hide from his love to protect him. It was the last thing he wanted to do and the only thing he could do. 

His angel was so close. Edges of the pristine feathers tickled the demon’s tainted skin once in a while. Crowley’s scaled skin ached for gentle touches from the being beside. His clawed finger clenched around nothing. Every inch of the demon wanted to hold Aziraphale close to himself but he knew he shouldn’t. 

Under the first storm on Earth, all Crowley could do was stare into the vast world that was ahead of them and hoped that he had done the right thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments if you feel like it. They really make my day :)


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